Shattered Glass
by shattered amethyst
Summary: This was written in response to Challenge 16 at the Dancing Dove. It's a one-shot from Ozorne's POV. Not really PG, but rated to be safe. I'm not great on ratings. Please R


Disclaimer: I own nothing, everything belongs to Tamora Pierce. I did make up the letter, but the content still belongs to Tamora Pierce. Please don't sue me. 

A/N This was written in response to challenge 16 at the Dancing Dove. Please R&R

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Shattered Glass

Ozorne smiled. The smile didn't quite reach his eyes; they stayed chilling, hard, icy orbs. It was a cruel smile, one that meant no good to whom it was directed. His thoughts matched his smile as he sat at his desk by the open window. 

"Your Most Serene and Imperial Majesty, Emperor Ozorne of Carthak". 

What a title, what power: to be ruler of all Carthak, to command the greatest army and navy in the Eastern Lands. Yet he wasn't content to be the ruler of only Carthak. Carthak was big, but still made up only part of the world. The amber fires of Ozorne's eyes burned hungrily. _How wonderful it would be to have power over all, all the Eastern Lands. How wonderful it would be to conquer all the surrounding countries, then all the countries beyond. To rule and to be feared. _But there was a problem, a large annoyance that lay in the way of power. _Tortall _his mind whispered _Tortall. Tortall had defended and fought back bravely –bravely and successfully. _The hunger burned into rage. _How dare they defy me? How dare they keep from me what is -what will be- mine./I? _His amber eyes no longer glinted coldly; they were the eyes of a madman. They were the eyes of a man driven insane by his desires. _And they have _him_. They keep him safe, let him hide behind his new status. _His eyes were now desperate. They swirled in a mixture of rage, hate, and hunger. _He was always better than I was. Not only in power, but also in discipline. But he was mine. He was mine, until he got away. He escaped from me, something never done before. But still he is mine; I will have him. Eventually, I will have him. No one has escaped me before, no one will. _Almost wasn't a word in his vocabulary; there was no maybe. Once the Emperor Mage wanted something, he never let go. 

"We regret the tension between our countries. We seek for peace. It would be a great honor for us to be allowed to send a peace delegation to work out an alliance. We have the support of the neighboring Eastern Lands in this decision." 

__

They want peace. They want peace and so do the other surrounding lands. They want peace, but do I? I want my war. I want to invade, to conquer Tortall. And when I do, he will be mine again. Yet they stop me, they prevent my war from happening with a peace delegation. I know my army is strong, I know my country is strong. But is it enough? What will happen if I refuse? 

"Understandably, our King's war mage, being a black robe mage and a very important person in Tortall, is part of the council we wish to send. We know of the tension between Your Majesty and our mage, but we must ask of you an imperial pardon for him. His position in the royal court of Tortall makes his presence essential during the aforesaid talks. We hope that you will grant him this pardon, overlooking old disputes in favor of a lasting peace." 

__

An imperial pardon. Have I ever given one before? Pretty words, carefully chosen, only to mask directions one is to follow. I follow no one. I obey no one. It is they who must obey me. But I cannot say anything now. I can only give the pardon and welcome the delegation here. Welcome him here. But he should not escape again. He cannot leave, only to come back and think himself safe. It cannot be allowed.

"It is our wish that you will think on this letter and decide in favor of peace. 

Sincere regards,

His Royal Majesty King Jonathan IV and Queen Thayet of Tortall" 

__

They make it sound as if the choice were mine, but they have made up their minds. There is nothing I can do without bringing the armies of the entire Eastern Alliance against me. And letting the peace delegation come means letting him come. It means letting him come back. And this time his safety is ensured, because I will have had to write him a pardon. He will be coming back. I will see Arram again. Ozorne's face twisted, his pupils contracted and his amber irises flamed. Emerald fire lashed out, a pure emerald that glowed with evil. It hit a large window in front of him and shattered glass flew everywhere. The breeze blowing in from the sea carried his unearthly scream far.. The guards would come running soon, would arrive only to see their Emperor alone. They would be able to do nothing but tremble at his rage. They could protect him from any other enemies, but not from himself.

The emerald ball of flame held high in Ozorne's hand cast shadows over the walls. The shadows leapt and flickered, moving in a constant parallel to the flames. Shadow and flame joined together in a deathly dance that was reflected in the eyes of the Emperor Mage.

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A/N No flames, please, but CC is very welcome. 


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